The Triad’s Pet by Marteeka Karland #DarkFantasy #scifi #bisexual #NewRelease @changelingpress @marteekakarland

The Triad has taken Arryn to be their pet, but Arryn has other ideas in mind.

The Triad's Pet (The Outcasts 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland
Genres/Themes: Dark Fantasy, scifi, Bisexual, multiple partners

A feisty outcast

Arryn’s life has always been awkward. The daughter of a traitor and his pet, the only reason she is allowed to continue to live in the village is because of her exceptional talents in both healing and engineering. Even still, she knows how to pick her battles and lives a contented life.

A triad pledged to another

Being taken as a pet is one thing, but to be taken by a trio of men who have pledged to be the promised of another woman is intolerable. Perhaps the impression Arryn made when she saved Storm’s life was a strong one, but she certainly didn’t sign up to be a pet. Dealing with her budding feelings for the three warriors is hard enough, but knowing she can never have them is enough to break her heart. Not that she’d ever let it show.

A village under siege

When danger is deliberately brought into their midst, it’s up to Arryn to direct her men. But how can a pet convince three stubborn warriors to trust in her unique abilities?

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Five pet peeves from Arryn…

  1. Arrogant assholes
  2. Ignorant assholes
  3. Bossy assholes
  4. Assholes who think she’s less because she’s a woman
  5. ANYONE making her a pet

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Marteeka Karland

The battle in the distance had everyone in the village on edge. Not a single person here didn’t have someone in that fight. Even our kings, the Triad, were in this one because we all knew it was a fight for the city. A fight to the death.

“Arryn! You’re needed at the wall! The mechanism on the main catapult is frozen!” That was my best friend, Lassa. She was the fastest runner in the village and, at times like these, she was needed everywhere.

I wanted to protest — organizing medical supplies and a place to bring the wounded was necessary, too. But Lassa was already off to carry the next message. Besides, Lorgan, our village healer and head of the Council of Elders, had made it clear he didn’t want my input. He needed it, though. When the wounded started coming in, assuming we weren’t overrun and invaded by the opposing tribes, he was going to have a mess on his hands.

Oh, well. Not my fight.

Yet.

As I hurried off to the wall, I noticed the shift in the breeze. Now it came from the sea rather than inland. Never a good sign. Off in the distance, a black cloud loomed menacingly and lightning flashed, filling me with dread.

As if the fates had heard my fear and misgivings, I heard soldiers gathering near the city gates. In the midst of them was one of our Triad. The other two were already on the battlefield. One always stayed back to see to the city defenses. If the last king was readying to enter the fray on the battlefield, things were bad indeed.

I watched as the tall man on a tall horse directed soldiers with every expectation he would be obeyed without question. His hair was black as night, his skin bronzed and glinting with sweat. Plate armor encased a powerful chest, leather his arms and legs. The powerful steed he rode had guards for the king’s legs built onto the saddle that acted as additional armor. Though I’d lived here most of my life, I did my best to stay away from anything to do with the ruling factions. I knew who the kings were, the Triad, but I wasn’t sure which was which. I thought this one was Asher. They were important people and, because of my shady background, I tended to avoid them.

His sharp gaze scanned the ranks at the wall, calling several soldiers to his side and snapping orders. He’d readied a contingent of cavalrymen to go into battle. Then he looked up… directly at me. Clear blue eyes caught my gaze. Held me captive as easily as if he’d wrapped those brawny arms tightly around me, as if he’d been completely aware of me and where I was no matter what was going on around him.

The hard planes of his face were starkly beautiful, with masculine lines that seemed to have been designed to take a woman’s breath. If I’d actually been the type of woman affected by men like him, my heart would be beating faster, my breath catching in my throat. Instead, I’m sure I was just out of breath, my heart pounding from hurrying through the village. Had to be.

Then he nodded once in my direction, actually acknowledging me, before swinging his mount around and charging onto the battlefield with his men.

“Get over here, girl!” one of the guards snapped, completely shattering the spell King Asher had woven around me. The soldiers were usually courteous, but urgency stripped everyone of niceties. I understood and respected that, not taking offense in the least. “The pin won’t release the break!”

As I approached at a run, I could see the problem. “The spring’s melted!” I shouted to him over the din of soldiers. “Get the payload off and I’ll replace the spring!”

Easier said than done. The payload was a cauldron of flaming oil. Even as I told him what to do, I realized that wouldn’t be possible. “Never mind,” I muttered, snagging an iron bar next to the hulking catapult. All I had to do was release the break. Which was controlled by the spring. The heat from the payloads they’d been firing had melted the spring. That didn’t happen with proper maintenance and care in loading the payload. Either someone got in too big a hurry, or no one had maintained the equipment. During the heat of battle, that was understandable.

I swung the iron bar with all my might. It took three tries before another guard snagged it from me and gave one mighty swing, snapping the spring free. When it finally broke free, the brake handle flipped up, the recoil knocking me on my ass into the mud when I jumped out of the way, but the arm swung, sending the flaming projectile hurling through the air. I didn’t notice where it went because I’d had to scramble to my feet and was frantically trying to free the broken bits of the release lever to get at the spring and break.

The soldier in charge of this engine was hurrying to bring me the parts he knew I’d need. Tools were already scattered around where men had been attempting to solve the problem.

I worked as swiftly as I could, repairing what I’d broken as well as replacing the vital spring that allowed the weapon to launch. I have no idea how long it took — seemed like forever — but finally, I was able to give the go ahead. “Test the fucker!” I shouted.

Soldiers cranked the wheel, creating tension. The sling was empty, but we couldn’t risk loading it before it was tested in case I’d fucked up.

“Release!” the guard snapped. The arm let go and swung upward in a smooth motion. Without another word, the soldiers began cranking the wheel again, readying the catapult for its payload.

They loaded another cauldron, filled it with oil, then set it ablaze. The guard gave the command to release it and, again, the weapon functioned exactly as it was supposed to. He turned to look at me. Nodded once, then turned his attention back to his duty.

I was the one everyone went to when things broke. The only problem was, I was a nobody. The bastard daughter of a traitor and a pet not his own, most thought me incapable of anything good.

My mother had been a nomad. Captured and sold as a pet, she’d run off with my father, having his child shortly before they’d landed in our village. Years later, my father, having worked his way up as a tradesman, betrayed the Triad by showing an enemy scout how to navigate the maze leading from the village to the Triad compound. He’d been jailed for a trial that had taken months when most times justice was swift and sure. In the meantime, the Council of Elders had given my mother to Lorgan, the head of the Council, in anticipation of my father’s execution. Things had gone horribly wrong after that. It was said that my mother “forced” Lorgan into what was considered “deviant behavior.” Lorgan had convinced the council to sentence my mother to death. At least, that was the official account. I had no idea what had happened immediately following that horrible incident, but my father, having been found guilty of the charges against him, had been exiled instead of executed.

That left me on my own at eleven years old, so I learned to fend for myself. By the time I was sixteen, I could fix anything. Which is how I’d come to design reinforcements for the city wall four years later. But, I mean, what could anyone expect? Their plan was piss poor and mine wasn’t.

While I was at the catapults, I hurried to inspect the area where the wall crossed the river. If there was a weakness in the defenses, it was here. Instead of building with the river on the outside, the elders had wanted it inside, so there was a ready supply of fresh water, which meant the iron gate was the only thing preventing invaders from breaching the city walls. It was fortified with guard towers and all kinds of weapons, but from the looks of things, every man not needed to operate crossbows and catapults was outside on the battlefield. There were a few soldiers on the battlements, but they were mostly boys in their teens. All of them looked terrified. This was why I’d insisted on making sure the design of the wall over the river was strong. I knew the Elders would demand all the defensive strength be focused on the main part of the city. Had the builders followed the original plan designed by some fuck dumber than dirt, we’d have been screwed the second the enemy engaged that section of the wall.

Looking through the grate to the battlefield beyond, it seemed like the fight was still far off. If they broke the lines, however, any enemy who’d studied the layout of the village would know the river was the weakest point and would charge it with everything they had.

I picked up a rock and threw it at one of the boys on the wall. Missed. Tried again. Didn’t make it to the wall that time. Fuck. I was definitely not warrior material. “Hey!” I yelled, waving my arms over my head. “Hey, hey!” One of the boys turned around. Cristiano, his name was.

“Arryn? What are you doing over here! The catapult’s messed up! They need you at the gate!”

“I fixed it, Cris. How is it looking from your end? Can you hold them if they break the line?”

The young man looked around, fear on his face. “I don’t know, Arryn. We’ve got weapons ready, but if it comes down to it…” He shook his head. “All I know is, I’m scared now and we’re not even in the fight.”

“Hold them together, Cris,” I said, scanning the inner wall for anyone I thought might be able to help. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’d sure love to have Granda here about now,” the younger man commented. “He isn’t very strong in a fight, but he’s a fierce leader.”

Which was a great idea. We needed something more at the river than the iron grate, but in this situation the men on the wall needed an experienced leader worse. “Drop the reinforcements!” I called to Cris. “It’s the best stationary defense you’ve got for the river.”

“We’re not supposed to do that except when it’s imminent we’re going to be charged,” he called back.

“Do you think your men can get the heavy son of a bitch in place if the enemy breaks the lines? Because you’ll need to be firing at them with everything you’ve got.”

“I’m on it,” he said, as I knew he would.

With one last look at the wall, I sprinted off to the main gate. The largest contingent of guards and soldiers was there. If there was a plan in place to defend the riverside, someone there would know.

“Where have you been, Arryn?”

That angry voice belonged to Lorgan. Head of the Council of Elders and all-around dumbfuck, Lorgan was all about making himself look good. He never wanted me anywhere around unless he was about to fuck something up. Or needed someone to clean up something he’d already fucked up.

Much as I wanted to make sure he wasn’t actually killing anyone with his horrible techniques, if the river wall wasn’t as fortified as it could be, the entire village could be in jeopardy. “Not now, Lorgan,” I said as I sprinted by. He sputtered and swore at me but didn’t bother to give chase. Which was my test as to if he was actually about to kill someone with ignorance. If Lorgan was in real trouble, he wouldn’t let up. I’d have to deal with him later, but right now, I had more pressing concerns.

“Who’s in charge?” I’d reached the main gate, out of breath and panting. Sweat dripped from my forehead into my eyes. My thin, sleeveless dress clung to my damp skin and my wine-red hair stuck to my face and neck uncomfortably. The soldiers were in full leather armor. As hot and miserable as I was, they had to be even worse.

“Arryn!” That was Hadin. Third in command of the city watch and training to be a captain in the Triad’s guard, he took his job very seriously. One of the reasons he’d make a good leader.

“The defense at the river. Those boys are good and throwing their heart into it, but really need a strong leader.”

“Cristiano is on it. He’ll be fine.”

“Just one experienced soldier, Hadin. Please. Just one.”

Hadin glanced in my direction before turning back to the group of men who’d begun to gather around him. Hadin was one of the few of the villagers in a position of power who actually took me seriously. “I don’t have one, Arryn. They’ll be fine. It’s not likely the Blackheart soldiers will break the line in any event. Especially if we keep pounding them with fire bombs.”

“Cris is asking for help. He’s a good guard but knows he’s in over his head.”

“No doubt because you asked him if he was overwhelmed,” Hadin snapped. “The city is under attack. We all have a job to do. Including you, Arryn. I suggest you get to yours and leave me to mine!” The man normally wasn’t so snippy, but I understood and would never hold it against him.

I also knew better than to argue. I’d expressed my opinion and Cristiano’s fears. That was all I could do. At least, it was all I could do here. My philosophy? Why waste time arguing that could better be spent doing something about the problem?

Whirling, I ran to the inner wall. Our city was formed in a circle. The Council of Elders and their families lived in the center, which was walled off. The theory was, if the city were ever under attack, women and children from all over the village would gather inside the inner wall and be protected from invaders. At least that was the argument the elders had put forth to have it built in the first place.

It was also a last line of defense for everyone. In reality, the elders generally locked themselves in, hunkered down, and expected everyone to protect them and their families. For the most part, any women and children who were not helping the soldiers and healers huddled just outside the inner walls in hopes that, if the outer wall was breached, those behind the inner wall would let them in.

I knew better.

At the festival square, the entrance to the inner wall, I found Cristiano’s granda, Malachi. Though the older man was completely white headed and missing a leg below his knee, with his tall, muscular frame, he was still a commanding presence.

“Take the little ones to the underground shelter,” he said, his voice booming. The shelter was supposed to be used for food storage, but I could see some of the items not heat sensitive were stacked outside the shelter entrance next to the wall. “Any woman who wants to go with them would be most welcomed and appreciated. My Tessa can only control so many of the little varmints.”

He sounded put out, but I knew Malachi wanted every single woman and child in that shelter and would use any means necessary to convince them, even making it seem like Tessa was too frail to care for the children on her own. Not that Tessa needed the help. She was a force of nature.

“Cris needs you, Malachi,” I said without preamble. “At the river wall.”

Instantly, the old man’s gaze seemed to burn through me. “Are they under siege?”

“No, but they need a steady hand to guide them.” Malachi met my gaze with a level one of his own. “They’re scared. If they come under attack and panic…”

“You make sure everyone who needs to be there gets into the shelter,” he said. “Tessa can handle it once they’re all inside, but some of them will try to stay outside to help their men.”

“Do you need help getting to the wall?”

He gave me a look that said, If you ask me that one more time

“Never mind. Stupid question.”

He grunted in satisfaction and snagged his crutches. The man really shouldn’t have been able to move around as easily as he did, but he could move as quickly as a man half his age with both legs. Of all the people in the village, I admired Malachi and Tessa the most. Not only were they intelligent and hardworking, but they were fierce in their protection of those they considered family. The gods knew they’d been there for me when I needed them desperately.

Tessa ushered women and children inside the shelter. She looked frail and damned near helpless, but I knew better. So did everyone else, but it still worked. No one she ushered inside refused her.

“You should stay with me,” Tessa said decisively. “We could use your calming influence with the children.”

I blinked. “Tessa?”

“I mean,” she plucked at her apron, “I want you to be in here with us. Where it’s safe.”

“You know I can’t,” I said gently. “Is something wrong? Is there something you need you’re not telling me?”

The older woman sighed, dabbing at her eyes with her apron. “I’m just getting emotional in my old age.” She gave me a watery smile. “I have seven children and twenty-four grandchildren. None of them pull at my heart the way you do, child. I love them all, but I worry over you when I shouldn’t.”

“I’ll be fine, Granma,” I said, giving her the title all her grandchildren used. “You know I’m needed in the city.”

She pursed her lips. “Just don’t you let that Lorgan push you around. Someone needs to pull that man down a peg or two.”

I grinned. “I’m sure you’re the very one to do it, Granma.” I kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, Tessa. Take care of the young ones.”

“I love you, too, Arryn. Take care of yourself.”

I had just given Tessa a hug and closed the door to the underground shelter when I spotted Lassa running toward me. In the distance, it seemed like the sounds of battle were growing louder. As if an army were approaching the city.

Impossible!

“Release!” Haden’s shout penetrated through the din of battle closing in around us. Several flaming cauldrons were launched from the eight catapults along the walls. The big crossbows on the top of the walls were loaded with flaming arrows, which also released. A barrage of flaming arrows from archers behind the walls were shot as well. Which meant the city’s soldiers were close to the wall, likely in retreat.

Never had the Triad been bested in a direct battle for the city. My heart pounded. Just as I was about to head to the river to make sure the water grate was as fortified as it could be, I saw a group of riders enter the city at a gallop, heading for the healer’s tent. The doors were closed once more, indicating they were standing their ground outside.

“Protect the Triad!” a voice called. Which was odd. I’d never heard of the Triad putting their protection over any of the men they led. The trio always led the regiments into battle. One at the front, one with the cavalry, and one with the siege engines…

How could I be so stupid! King Asher had left the wall. None of the Triad had replaced him with Hadin. Which meant one of the Triad had fallen. That was what Lorgan had been fussing about. The king must not have been at the healer’s tent yet when Lorgan called for me. A runner would have been sent ahead to give notice for the healer to prepare; otherwise, had Lorgan needed my help with this particular problem, he’d have run me down immediately. He’d likely thought he could handle it on his own but wanted backup. The man they’d just taken into the healer’s tent was one of our kings.

Fuck.

MORE BOOKS BY MARTEEKA KARLAND

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

Emelia’s Soldiers by Isabella Jordan #AdventureRomance #scifi #bisexual #multiplepartners #NewRelease @changelingpress @isyjordanauthor

Two gorgeous soldiers want to save Emelia from the web
they’re caught in. But can they let her go?

 

Emelia's Soldiers (Ghost Unit 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres/Themes: Action Adventure, Scifi, Bisexual,
Multiple Partners, Men and Women in Uniform

 

Tired of being taken for granted, Emelia Drake decides to confront her latest loser boyfriend. Instead of the satisfaction she hoped for, she finds herself caught in an elaborate and dangerous web.

Nick Cormac and Chase Turner seek to protect an innocent woman from the web of darkness that’s shattered their lives. The survivors of dark experiments and torture at the hands of a mercenary who wanted to create a legion of superior soldiers, Nick and Chase are part of an elite, highly-skilled group intending to stop the mercenary once and for all.

They know Emelia is too good for them and their world, but that doesn’t change the fact that they want her. Will they be able to keep her safe? How can they ever let her go?

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Nick, Chase, and Emelia: What are your favorite movies?

Nick: I enjoy a good comedy. The Deadpool movies are pretty good. I like Zombieland – and that’s got a sequel coming out this year, right? Zombie movies are fun.

Emelia: (Laughs) You never watch anything with zombies. You liked Zombieland. That’s it. You bitch every time Chase or I want to watch The Walking Dead.

Nick: The Walking Dead is depressing, and I haven’t been into that show since that old farmer guy died.

Chase: I still watch it but yeah, I’ll give you that. Hershel’s loss was one we never got over.

Nick: But for me? Comedies. The Big Lebowski. Bridesmaids. The Hangover movies.

Chase: Real intellectual stuff. (laughs with Emelia)

Nick: (Mouths) Fuck you.

Chase: I like a good spy or espionage flick now and again. I like the James Bond movies, even the old ones when you catch them on.

Nick: Two words. Reality television.

Emelia nods.

Chase: (Blows out an exhale) Yeah, right. I watch Dateline when I can’t sleep at night. What else is on?

Emelia: We have Amazon Prime, Netflix, Hulu… so like a million other things honestly.

Chase: (play shoves Emelia) I like Game of Thrones, but it feels like it hasn’t been on for like ten years.

Emelia: Me too!

Nick: It’s okay. It’s a lot to keep up with.

Chase: You think? For two years, you thought Tywin Lannister and Stannis Baratheon were the same dude.

Nick: Who?

Chase: (laughs with Emelia) For me, anything but historical movies or chick flicks. Those are her arena.

Emelia: (rolls her eyes) I watch things besides chick flicks.

Nick: Like?

Emelia: I loved Creed 2. And the first one.

Chase: Because you think that Creed guy is cute.

Emelia: Michael B. Jordan is beautiful.

Nick: Mm-hm. (Chase shakes his head)

Emelia: Game of Thrones hardly qualifies as a chick flick.

Chase: You like the guy who got his hand chopped off.

Emelia: Jaime Lannister is beautiful. (Shakes her head at her two guys grumbling) I also like the Great British Baking Show, Stranger Things. Oh, and I like True Detective.

Nick: Do you even know what that is?

Emelia: Yeah, I mean, I’ve just finished the first season with Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey. That was really good.

Nick: The second season was good too.

Chase: They did more?

Emelia: There’s a third season too.

Nick: We should watch it. I’ll re-watch what I’ve seen.

Chase: Sounds good to me.

Emelia: Sounds like a date. Wait, weren’t we supposed to be talking about movies though?

Nick: You mentioned Creed. We’re good.

Chase: Wanna watch True Detective later?

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Isabella Jordan

Emelia Drake’s heart dropped as she spotted Scott’s car parked at a seedy-looking bar on the outskirts of the city. Amy, her coworker who lived nearby, had mentioned seeing Scott’s very distinctive Camaro at the bar several times lately. Emelia wouldn’t have been curious except that over the last several days, she hadn’t had a lot of luck reaching him. Once he explained his phone’s battery had died. Another time he was out of range, working with some new client.

It had been a month now and she’d barely seen him. Emelia tried hard to give him the benefit of the doubt, she really did. Scott was an architect, and a good one. It was one of the reasons she liked having him as a boyfriend, shallow as it was to admit. But who was she kidding? Scott had cheated on her before. A couple of times. And the chants of “if he does it once” from well meaning friends were really starting to get old.

So, Emelia had gotten home from work, downed a couple of small glasses of bourbon for courage, and decided to go for a ride. In her gut, she knew she’d find him. She always did.

This time, though. This time she wouldn’t sit out in the parking lot staring at his car in tears. She had no intention of driving away in shame and waiting until he got tired of the other woman and came back to her. No. Not this time.

Climbing out of the car, Emelia braced herself. She was going to look so out of place in there. Here she was in her pencil skirt and blouse, kitten heels and her hair up in a neat twist. Why hadn’t her dumb ass changed clothes?

But she just had to do this. She had to face him down. Just once.

Because this was over.

Yanking open the door, she walked into a classic smoky barroom, filled with rougher people than she normally kept company with. Emelia mentally shook her head. What was Scott doing here? It usually pained him to converse with anyone making less than a hundred grand a year and he was here?

Some old rock tune with a heavy bass blared above the din of conversation around her. She tried to see if she could spot him there. She was half-praying that she wouldn’t, that it was an incredible coincidence, that someone had a Camaro just like his. She could go home, crawl into her bed, and just hide  there for a day or two.

When her heel caught on a rough board, Emelia almost went flying, but strong hands steadied her as she regained her balance. Turning, she glanced up at her rescuer and just stared. Steel blue eyes met hers set in a truly handsome face, all strong-jaw and nice lines with a scruffy beard and thick, wavy dark hair that just touched his shoulders.

Damn. Why had she never come here before?

“Thank you,” she told him, truly grateful that he saved her from making a spectacle of her self earlier than she intended.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze raking her over.

Emelia nodded, looking him over, too. He was all muscles covered in denim and leather and…

She needed to focus. Find Scott. You’re not here for the hot biker dude.

“Yeah, thank you,” she told him with a smile. She left him there, watching as he took a seat across from a blond who was even bigger than he was and just as gorgeous. The blond’s eyes lit up with amusement. When he caught her gaze, he winked at her.

Jesus.

When she reached the very back of the bar, she spotted Scott in a booth, wearing a leather jacket she’d never seen before, with a T-shirt and jeans. That was new. Snuggled up against his side was a very attractive woman with a head full of flame-red ringlets, big green eyes, and ruby-painted lips. She laughed at something Scott said, and he answered by pressing a kiss just under her ear, nuzzling under her hair.

Emelia’s heart sank. Well, okay then.

Across from them sat a huge guy with a military haircut and his back to her, so she couldn’t get a good look at him. Now what are you going to do, genius?

It had been a mistake to walk in. Especially when she knew what she’d find. Just as she knew she’d let him come crawling back to her when he was done with the Julia Roberts wannabe.

And it was at that moment Scott spotted her.

His dark eyes widened. Shocked, he abruptly jumped up from the seat, throwing the redhead off in a way Emelia would have found comical if circumstances were different. “Emelia, what are you doing here?” Scott asked in a not-so-steady voice. His eyes were glassy and red, and he wasn’t entirely stable on his feet. He’d been drinking. A lot.

Emelia smiled, wanting to come across as sassy and empowered but not quite hitting that note. “I saw your car outside.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the bar’s entrance. “I thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“Is this your girlfriend?” The redhead was beaming at her from the seat, her chin propped in one hand. “She’s so… sweet. Don’t you think she’s sweet, Alex?”

The military guy glanced over his shoulder at her, his dark gaze roaming over her in a way that made her cringe. Then he smirked at her. “Yeah.”

Scott’s gaze shifted from Alex to Emelia and back again. Licking his lips, he returned his attention to her. He looked nervous. Somehow, she didn’t think it was because he’d been caught by his girlfriend snuggling up to a redhead.

“I’m going to be out for a while tonight,” Scott told Emelia. “Why don’t you go on home and I’ll call you tomorrow? Yeah?”

Something was wrong. Usually when she confronted Scott about any of his little side bitches, he’d be furious. That has been part of the reason confronting him in a public place had seemed like a good idea. As pissy mad as he usually got, in public he wouldn’t be able to throw things at her or swing at her as he normally did. Not without risking someone would get the police involved.

Now Scott just seemed… worried. What had he gotten himself into?

Emelia nodded, uneasy. “I’m going to take off. Don’t worry about calling me,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m good.”

The line was meant to mark her exit. Just as she turned around, a hand caught her elbow. She looked up in fear as Alex rose from his side of the booth, his grip on her firm. He was a big guy, towering over her. The smirk he wore just made it worse. “So, does that mean you’re available now, sweet thing?” Alex drawled, his grip tightening around her bicep.

Emelia yanked on her arm to pull free. His fingers flexed. Now it hurt. “Let me go, please.” Emelia forced herself to meet his gaze. “Please?”

“Hey, man,” Scott jumped in at that point. “Hey, she’s—”

Alex held up his other hand to cut him off. “I’m just going to walk her out to her car. It’s a rough neighborhood. I just want to make sure she’s taken care of.”

The redhead’s grin widened, and Emelia’s stomach dropped. “I’ll be fine,” Emelia told him as forcefully as she could manage.

Alex lowered his face, his dark, mean eyes glaring into hers. “I insist.” Alex walked around her and then proceeded to pretty much drag her away from the booth. A quick look back showed Scott just watching, with his mouth hanging open.

Emelia struggled, trying to pull free. When the front entrance came into sight, she decided she’d just start screaming. No way she was going to let the man drag her out of the bar and do who-knew-what with her.

Abruptly, the man came to a halt in front of her, causing her to run into his back. Something had surprised him enough to loosen his grip and Emelia yanked back the moment she felt it, pulling free of him. As she made it around him, she realized it was the blond man who’d been sitting with her rescuer who’d stopped them. And while Alex whoever-he-was was a big guy, he had nothing on the blond blocking his exit. The hot guy with long, dark hair stepped in front of her, shielding her from Alex.

“You’re in our way,” Alex growled at the taller man.

The man had sky-blue eyes, a strong jaw, and blond hair cut short. His shoulders were as wide as church doors and his muscles had muscles under a heavy, worn leather coat, shirt and jeans. He cut an intimidating figure as his glare locked with that of the guy who’d been trying to drag her out of the bar.

“I’m not blocking your way,” the blond corrected him, tipping his head in Emelia’s direction.

She felt much safer tucked behind the broad back of the dark-haired man. Her palms were pressed to his back and he felt muscly, too. Damn.

“She’s with me,” Alex told him, his voice low.

“You with him, sweetheart?” the blond asked her.

Emelia shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Guess that means she’s with us,” the brunet said, grinning over his shoulder at her. “You with us?”

Emelia didn’t know these two anymore than she did Alex, but the vibes she got from them felt much safer. She was willing to chance it. “Yes,” Emelia said loud enough for Alex to hear.

Alex’s glare had her heart lurching in her chest. After a meaningful moment, that intense gaze shifted back to the blond. “My mistake,” he said, his lips pressed into a thin line. When he headed back in the direction of Scott’s table, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The two men waited until he was out of earshot before herding her back to the booth where they’d been sitting. The dark-haired man seated her between himself and the wall.

“How you fellas doing?” A tall waitress with curly hair smiled at them as she stopped at their booth.

“A couple more,” the blond motioned to the mostly empty glasses on the table before them. “What about you, sweetheart?”

Drinking was the last thing she should be contemplating but she was going to need to calm down, to get her mind around what just happened. “A Whiskey Sour, please.”

The waitress nodded. “Be right back.”

“You okay?” the blond asked, the concern in those bright blue eyes seeming genuine.

Emelia nodded. “I will be. I think.”

“What are you doing here?” the brunet asked meaningfully.

She blew out a sharp breath. “Confronting a cheating boyfriend?”

The two of them exchanged a look. “That was your boyfriend?” The brunet jerked his thumb in the direction of Scott’s table.

Emelia shook her head. “I don’t know the big guy. Scott’s my boyfriend. Was my boyfriend. He’s the one back there all over the redhead.”

“Do you know the woman?” the blond wanted to know.

Emelia shook her head again.

“Well, sorry about that,” the brunet said slowly. “But you might have bigger problems now.”

“Why?” Then she stopped, remembered how uneasy Scott had seemed at her arrival. “He’s gotten into something he shouldn’t have, huh?”

Again, the two men exchanged a look.

“You can tell me.” Her relationship was definitely over now. Whatever was going on between him and redhead and Alex? She wanted no part of that.

“Yeah, he’s gotten himself into something he shouldn’t have,” the brunet went on. “Problem is, they’ve seen you now.”

“So?” Emelia thanked the waitress who came back with the round of drinks. “I don’t have anything to do with it.”

The blond held up a hand to halt their conversation until the waitress left.

“You do if they think they can use you against him,” the blond explained.

“Excuse me?” Emelia stared at him as she worked on her drink, enjoying the way it burned into her stomach. “I don’t think they missed the part where I showed up and found him cuddled up to another woman. I told him not to call me. It’s over. Done. Whatever is going on there doesn’t involve me.”

“It does if they think they can use you to motivate him to do something they want,” the brunet continued. “Do you know anything about them? Why he’s with them?”

“Are you undercover cops or something?” Emelia wanted to know, fear creeping into her head. “Why all the questions?”

“We’re the ones who are going to get your ass safely out of here, so don’t worry about it,” the blond snapped. “Do you know anything about them?”

The impatient tone got her attention. “No, I don’t.” Emelia forced herself to meet his gaze. “Scott’s an architect. He’d been telling me that he was putting in a lot of hours with a new client, a woman. He’s designing some sort of special building for her. That’s what he told me. I really haven’t heard anything from him for weeks, so I found him here and decided to confront him. Guess it wasn’t my best idea.”

“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the brunet told her. “I’ll give you that. What’s your name?”

She looked from him to the blond and back, ultimately deciding that it was in her best interest to be nice. “Emelia,” she told him. “Who are you?”

“He’s Nick,” the brunet offered. “I’m Chase.”

Emelia worked on downing her drink, trying to calm the riot of thoughts in her head. She’d shown up to confront her loser boyfriend. His cheating ways had apparently led him to get involved with some people he should have avoided. What happened now? All she really wanted to do now was go home, call in sick for the rest of the week and feel sorry for herself with more bourbon and ice cream.

Something told her she wasn’t going to get her wish.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “Whatever’s going on, you didn’t have to keep him from dragging me out of here, but you did.”

Something like admiration lit Nick’s eyes and he nodded.

The brunet, Chase, sat back on the booth seat, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Emelia stiffened but she didn’t protest. “Can I go home now?” Emelia hated the pitiful note in her own voice.

“Do you live close by?” Nick asked, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.

Emelia shrugged. “I’m about three miles away. I’ll be okay to drive.”

Nick shook his head. “I’m sure you are, but if he decides to look for you, it won’t take him long at all to find you.”

Emelia’s heart ached in her chest. “Why would he? Apparently, I don’t matter to Scott.” Oh, that hurt to admit. And come find her? How insane was what they were telling her? They couldn’t be right, could they?

Chase’s gaze locked with hers. “Doesn’t matter to them. And Alex seems like the type of guy who’d make the most of his mistake.”

Emelia didn’t mistake his meaning. What if he did come looking for her? What could she do? Both men watched her reaction while her mind reeled.

“Hey,” Nick got her attention, pulled her out of her mind. “Sorry. Not trying to scare the shit out of you. Just trying to be realistic. I’m sorry you stumbled into this, but you did.”

Whatever it was, it was real. She’d felt so uncomfortable at Scott’s table when she’d gone back there to face him. Something had been off about the entire situation. What if they were right? What if she was in danger?

“We’ll keep you safe,” Nick told her…

 

MORE BOOKS BY ISABELLA JORDAN

 

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer, programmer, and internet junkie. When she’s not trying to perfect her own personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and chatting with readers and friends.

 

 

Feral by Lacey Savage #PNR #Bisexual #werewolves @changelingpress

Think werewolves aren’t real? Tell that to the those
who find themselves captives to the Zante pack…

 

Feral Heat (Box Set) (Feral 6)

 

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox
Genres/Themes: Action adventure, Paranormal, Bisexual and more,
Multiple Partners, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Werewolves

 

Think werewolves aren’t real?

Tell that to the four women and one man who find themselves captive to the whims of the Zante pack’s males. Fierce, mythical, and sexy-as-sin, these delightfully debauched wolves guide their lovers through a journey of seductive exploration. Whether newly discovered or rekindled, their relationships are as passionate as they are.

And the women can give as good as they take. From a fairy bent on revenge to a vixen determined to destroy the pack, they’ll all discover that getting caught is its own reward.

Wild and dangerous, menacing and exciting, otherworldly and naughty to the last…

The men of the Zante pack will make a believer out of you.

Publisher’s Note: This box set contains the previously released novellas Firecrackers: Chemistry to BurnFeral MagnetismFeral BachelorismFeral Hedonism, and Feral Voyeurism. 

 

Get it at Changeling Press

 

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Feral Heat (Box Set)
Lacey Savage
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Lacey Savage

Eve chuckled in her ear. “See anything interesting?”

“Men. Lots and lots of men.” In fact, Angelina had never seen so many good- looking men gathered in one place. All skin colors, body types and nationalities mingled with one another in front of rides with names like “The Big One,” “One Eyed Monster,” and “Long and Lean.”

“I guess it’s true what they say,” Eve offered in a playful tone. “If they’re not taken, all the good ones are definitely gay.”

“Suddenly, I’m starting to think that’s not such a bad thing.” Only inches away, two of the most delicious men Angelina had ever seen engaged in a passionate kiss. Their lips parted, allowing their tongues to sweep and come together in a dance that lit Angelina’s already flustered libido on fire.

“It’s been too long since anyone’s kissed me like that.” Her voice held a hint of melancholy she tried to mask without much success.

“Griffin was a fool.”

Angelina had trouble disagreeing with Eve when she had a point. Yet, she couldn’t help the way her gut twisted at her friend’s words. “He wasn’t all bad.”

Reluctant though she may have been to admit it, Angelina couldn’t hide the fact that she still cared for him, especially not from Eve. Seeing his smiling, arrogant face in the Sunday paper when the announcement for tonight’s fireworks display made the news had brought back all kinds of memories she wished had remained buried.

“Sure he was,” Eve argued. “How else do you explain the fact that he took everything? He’s taking credit for your work, Angelina, even now.”

“He had the most perfect ass,” Angelina countered. “No man with such a hot ass could be all bad.”

Eve laughed, shattering the tension that sizzled through their small communication device. “And a really big cock.”

“Hey!”

“What?” Eve asked innocently. “You bragged.”

“Yeah, maybe once or –“

The rest of her words caught in her throat and disappeared on a sharp intake of breath. Standing outside the dark opening to a ride called “Blow Me Away,” Griffin Taylor looked surprisingly comfortable in dark pressed pants and a soft white shirt that clung to his muscular shoulders like a second skin. Six-two, broad-chested, and built like a football player, Griff had never really blended in with the scientists and chemistry professors they’d hired to work for Incendiary Enterprises. Yet here, among a multitude of stunning men who mercilessly teased, fondled, and brought each other to the heights of flirtatious ecstasy, her former lover seemed to have found his niche.

Desire swept through her, quickly burrowing between her legs. Her pussy throbbed with recognition.

Griff looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd. Full, sensual lips pursed in concentration. Angelina’s breathing stilled, though she knew there was no way he’d recognize her from that distance, especially in the biker outfit and the damnable beard.

“Eve,” Angelina murmured, trying to keep her lips still as she spoke into the tiny microphone, “we’re on.”

Excerpt from Firecracker: Chemistry to Burn